


Accepting Him

by LittleBitOffanfic



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:26:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8331217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBitOffanfic/pseuds/LittleBitOffanfic
Summary: Fandom: The Boy Characters: Brahms, Mr and Mrs Heelshire Relationship: Brahms/reader Request: Have you seen The Boy? Could I request one where the reader is a old friend of Brahms and doesn’t know hes still alive but agrees to be a nanny to the doll to repay the family? And its like the same plot as the movie but its her abusive dad Brahms kills and she stays? Thx





	1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: Massive Spoiler – but what a great movie!   
You looked out of the window of the black taxi, the trees becoming a blur. The taxi driver was focused on the road which you were grateful for since you didn’t feel like speaking to anyone.   
You were going to stay with the Heelshire out in their big country home. You were both dreading and looking forward to it.   
You had known the family many many years ago, back when you were 7 years old. You have been best friends with Brahms, whos weirdness matched your own. But you were from an abusive family and he hated that. SO when the whole Emily thing had happened, your family had dragged you away to another country so that the police wouldn’t find out about the nasty hand shaped bruise on your arms or the black eyes you had.   
You had found out that Brahms had died not long after you left in a house fire. It had devastated you. So you were surprised when you accidently stumbled across an add to look after a 8 year old boy called Brahms who lived at the same address, you were on the phone straight away.   
Mrs Heelshire picked up the phone. You were surprise at how she still sound just as you remembered her.   
“Hello, Mrs Heelshire. You may not remember me but-“ you had barley finished your sentence when you heard her calling to her husband.   
“Daddy, come here. Its [y/n]! You remember her? Brahms little friend!” She sounded so happy despite her somewhat monotone voice. You had heard Mr Heelshire coming in the room and asked how you were. You had always adored them both. They were more like parents that your actual parents. They had tried to protect you from the violence you had endured.   
you spent a few minutes exchanging pleasantries and finding out how you were. But you were curious and that curiosity got the better of you.   
“The reason I called was because of this add I found.” As soon as you spoke, you heard the other side of the phone fall silent. You allowed them to gather their thoughts before Mrs Heelshire spoke, her voice shaking.   
“Yes, we are looking for a nanny while we are away on holiday.” She was rather vague which made you frown but you were glad she couldn’t see you. She would always tell you off if you had frowned a her when you were younger.  
“For Brahms. But he- he would have been 26, would he?” You ask, originally going to say but he was dead but then you decide against it.   
“Yes, my dear. But he is still very much with us. He is still a child, still 8 years old.” She said and instantly you understood.   
You had seen plenty of cases where parents who had not grieved properly never accepted the loss of their child. Instantly you thought of a doll. Perhaps that was what they required.   
You had suffered from guilt over the years. You should have stayed to help Brahms and maybe you could have helped him more. Maybe if you had been there, he wouldn’t have been killed in the fire. These maybes killed you every day. You had never forgotten him.   
“May I apply?” You ask, hearing the intake of breath on the other line. They hadn’t expected that.   
You heard a muffling sound which you assumed was a hand being placed over the phone and voices which were muffled. You had allowed them to speak amongst themselves.   
But they had accepted and offered you the job there and then. In fact, Mrs Heelshire had sounded thrilled as she told you she would pay for your travel expenses.   
She asked if you had a job that you needed to give notice period but you told her you were a writer so it would be nice to spend a couple of months away and that you could work on your new book.   
So, here you were. The house began to loom over the trees as the taxi driver stopped the car to open the gates. Memories flooded back to you.   
When you would come up here, you were small enough to slip through the gates and run up the path.   
You blinked away the tears as the driver gets back into the car and drives up.   
Arriving outside the grand doors, you were surprised at how it hadn’t changed. Apart from the outsides of Brahms room. That was boarded up.   
Of course, Mrs Heelshire was waiting for you outside and she smiled as you got out the car. You weren’t sure how she would greet you but she embraced you with open arms. As you pulled back, she moved a strand of your [h/c] hair out of your face.   
“my, my. You grew up to be so beautiful.” She mumbled, more to herself than you but you couldn’t help but smile at her. It was very rare you received compliments since you kept yourself to yourself.   
Her smile faulted as she looked over her shoulder into the house.   
“Come, there is much to go over.” She then turned on her heel and walked inside.   
You followed her but only after the driver had said he would place your luggage inside for you.  
She talked you through your duties, cooking and some light cleaning. She told you that there will be a man who delivers the groceries once a week and that they kept and froze all the leftovers. You nodded and smiled, showing you understood.   
Then she took you to meet Brahms.   
As you thought, he was a doll. When you walked into the room, Mr Heelshire was crouched by a chair, speaking to someone in the chair and as he moved, your mouth nearly fell open.   
The doll was so similar to the Brahms you remembered. His big eyes, neatly combed black hair. Even down to his smart outfit.   
Of your own accord, you walked forward and kneeled in front of Brahms, looking at him.   
You knew Mr and Mrs Heelshire eyes were focused on you but you didn’t care. You felt a pang of pain in your chest. You missed him every day and now, you may have a chance to repay him and this family for leaving. You reached out and ran your finger down his cheek.   
“Introduce yourself dear. He may not recognise you. You have grown up so much.” Mr Heelshire nodded to you.   
“Hi, Brahms. It’s me, [y/n]. Remember me? We used to play together when we were children.” You smiled at Brahms, taking his small, porcelain hand and shaking it lightly.   
Mrs Heelshire smiled, placing a hand over her heart.   
You spent the rest of the day with Mr and Mrs Heelshire and Brahms of course. They showed you how to clean the traps and what clothes Brahms needed to be dressed in and the way your day should work. You got very excited when Mrs Heelshire asked you to read poetry and play classical music. Mr Heelshire said a number of times that things weren’t as they seemed and that Brahms was still here. You agreed with him.   
When you were finished, she asked for a moment alone with Mr Heelshire and Brahms. You stood in the hall, a little nervous. What if they resented you for leaving?   
But Mrs Heelshire opened the door, beaming at you.   
“He wants you, if you will still have him?”   
Of course, you agreed.   
—————-time skip ——————–  
After Mr and Mrs Heelshire left, you followed the rules to a tee.   
You woke, dressed and cared for Brahms. You had sat with him the first night and poured your heart out to the doll. You cried, sobbing about how sorry you were and that you wanted to stay with him but they wouldn’t let you.   
However, you were slowly beginning to believe that he was alive, the doll was alive. Little items would go missing, like a neckless and some clothes. Sometimes, things weren’t where you left them and sometimes, it was the doll himself who had moved. You had tested your theory by placing him on the floor and drawing around him with chalk and he would move!  
At first, you didn’t believe it but now, you were sure he was here, in spirt or something. You assumed he had forgiven you for leaving since he never did anything to hurt or scare you (on purpose). He would never go out of his way to make you happy.   
Like leaving your favourite book on your bed to read to yourself or he would give you hints to what you could write about.   
You would sit with Brahms and play the piano for him, or read to him.   
Over time, you became attached to him.   
It was apparent that he didn’t like Malcom, the delivery boy. But neither did you. He was too noisy and rude. But he did only come around once a week.   
You were sitting with Brahms, reading to yourself when you heard a bang from downstairs. You jumped and looked at Brahms.   
“Was that you?” You asked, but when you heard it again, you knew it wasn’t Brahms. You quickly got to your feet and picked up Brahms, holding him close to your body protectively.   
Walking down the corridor, you called out ‘hello?’ a couple of times before deciding the noise was coming from the pool room.   
You turned the corner and there stood your father. Abusive, drunk, controlling father.   
“There you are [y/n]! Get your stuff.” He stumbled across the room, bashing his hip on the table and grunting.   
“How did you knew where I was?” You ask, your voice shaking as you hold Brahms tighter. Your father’s eyes fell on the doll, smirking at you.   
“Your flatmate. Ran into her while she was forwarding on your mail. Managed to nick a letter and here I am. How dare you leave without my permission.” He became enraged, walking up and grabbing your upper arm. You struggled but he squeezed tighter, making you cry out in pain.   
“Stop it, you’re hurting me!” You cry out, pulling back. Just as you did that, he left go and you fell backwards, your head banging against the wall. You whimper to yourself, checking Brahms before yourself. You were relieved to see he was unharmed.   
“Now, get your stuff. Now, [y/n]!” He demanded as he turned.   
“Please, don’t leave me.” A quiet voice, only loud enough for you to hear. Your eyes widened as you looked at Brahms. Had he spoke to you?   
Your eyes light up as you thought of an idea.   
“Can we leave tomorrow? It’s so dark out and we are so far from anywhere. And in the morning, I’ll make food.” You call out, still looking at Brahms but you could tell your father had stopped.   
“Fine. Get me some covers, girl.” He growled and you scrambled to your feet, running out the door with Brahms in your arms. You set him down in his room.   
“I don’t want to put you in danger again so I’m going to leave you alone for just a moment, okay?” You ask but don’t get a reply so you took that as a yes and ran out the room to grab covers and pillows.   
Your father was already passed out on a couch by the time you had got back so you threw the covers over him, knowing that if he woke up and saw them folded in a corner, you would get a whack for being lazy.   
You ran back to Brahms and shut the door, locking it from the inside. You lay down beside him and wrapped your arms around him.   
“I’m not going to leave you, not again. But I need your help.” You whispered to him, the fear in your voice obvious. You whispered to Brahms a few more times that you weren’t going to leave him but you began to grow sleepy, your eyelids dropping.   
You were dozing when you heard your name being screamed by your father at the top of his lungs. He sounded both angry and scared which was dangerous. You instantly noticed Brahms was gone and the door was open. You scrambled out of the bed and bolted down the hallways, your heart beating hard against your chest.   
‘please let him be okay. Please let Brahms be okay.’ You prayed as you rounded the corner of the pool room to see your father leaning against the pool table, blood on his forehead. You looked around and saw dead rats in his luggage.   
“There you are. What the hell is this?” He demanded, walking over to you but all you could do was shake your head, your eyes falling on Brahms in the corner. You mumbled his name as you ran around the table to pick him up. Your father followed you.   
“Really, the doll? You think I believe that?” he then snatched Brahms by the legs and pulled him from your grasp.   
“No, no, no. please!” You gasped, trying to get him back. But your father was no hold Brahms fragile body by the leg and swinging him around.   
“You think I’m going to believe that a doll did this. You need to grow up. ‘Brahms’ is dead. And it’s all your fault.” He sneered at you, knowing how to kick you when you’re down.   
“Please, just give him back.” You cried, tears running down your cheek as you held your hands out to him.   
you father turned to you, smirking. You didn’t like that smirk; it was one he would give you when he would have a horrible idea.   
“Once I break this doll, I’m going to kill you.” He sneered then raised the doll over his head and slammed it down on a chair. The porcelain face shattered into a thousand pieces before your eyes. You fell to your knees, your eyes wide and your mouth open. You let out a cry of angst as you watch one of Brahms eyes falling off the seat.   
You had failed him again.   
You buried your head in your hands as you sobbed. Hearing footsteps, you prepared yourself for the pain but it never came.   
Instead, there was a number of bangs and thumps which made you look up and around. Your father had frozen and was looking fearfully at the wall. He walls shook and the light dimmed slightly.   
When the noise had stopped, your father started to walk towards a mirror than was on the opposite wall. You pushed yourself back so your back was against a wall, pulling your knees up to your chest. Just as he was about a foot away from the mirror, it shattered, shards of glass flying everywhere as your father stumbled back. The space behind the mirror was hollow and a figure began to appear. It wore a black vest with a thick, chalk coloured sweater. His face was covered with a mask of a dolls face, similar to Brahms one. He had jet black hair which curled at the ends.   
As he emerged from the hole in the wall, he looked at you and then to your father.   
“Who the fuck are you?!” You father cried out before pouncing at the man.   
It would seem the man expected his and gripped your father arms, swinging him around and slamming him against the wall. But your father was still a little drunk and a little pain would stop him. He lunged at the man again and once again, the man managed to better him. He pinned your father down on the floor, his hand on your father throat.   
Your father looked at you, his eyes begging for help but you just shook your head.   
The amount of time you had been thrown about a room, chocked, struck, beaten by him. You honestly didn’t care if this stranger killed him.   
Your father’s eyes fell shut and he stopped struggling.   
you watched his body go limp and felt relived.  
It was over. You would no long have to run and hind from him anymore.   
But the relief was short lived at the man turned his attention to you. You held your breath as he stood and walked over to you, somewhat timidly. As if he was afraid of what you would do.   
You closed your eyes as you saw him crouching in front of you, waiting for him to finish you of too. But you were surprised when you felt a shaking finger stroking your cheek. You opened your eyes and saw the man in front of you, his eyes begging you for something.   
As you looked into his eyes, you saw something familiar. Something you had seen before.   
The timid strokes reminded you of the first time you had come here to look after Brahms, the way you had greeted him.   
Then it clicked.   
“Brahms?” You asked, your voice shaking as his eyes widened. He gently nodded his head, his curls bouncing slightly.   
He was alive. After all this time. You glance to the hole in the wall. He had been living in the walls. He had been here all along.   
You reached out and traces a finger down his masks cheek. You could see the burn marks around his eyes so you assumed his whole face must have been burnt, hence the mask. It all clicked together.   
It was him you had been looking after. It was from inside the walls.   
Your emotions were everywhere. You were filled with relief and sadness. Joy and pain. But as you stared into his eyes, you felt love.   
Something behind Brahms moved and your eyes caught a glimpse of your father stumbling over to Brahms, his pocket knife raised above his head.   
“Watch out!” You cried, pushing Brahms out the way and pouncing forward.   
Your father brought the knife down and it caught your cheek.   
Brahms was quick to tackle your father from the side, the knife falling out his hand just as he fell to the ground. You watched Brahms grab a piece of the broken doll and ram it into your father throat. Blood spurted everywhere as your father let out a gargling notice, his legs falling still.   
You ran to Brahms, cupping his cheeks and turning his face to look at you.   
“Brahms, you okay?” You asked, your voice shaking as he looks at you. He nodded slightly but his hand raises and touches your cheek. When he pulls it away, you see the blood on his fingertips. You raised your own hand and touch your cheek, the cut stinging.   
when you winced you felt a slender hand wrap around your wrist gently and pulled it away. You looked at Brahms to see his eyes on your cheek.   
He began to stand up, pulling you up with him. You were too busy concentrating on him to see how he was concentrating solely on you. His eyes skimmed your face, his hand reaching up to cup your good cheek.   
He then took your right hand and pulled you out of the pool room and into the kitchen. You stumbled a little behind him, head still spinning.   
He was so tall. You couldn’t help but feel dwarfed by him slender body.   
As you entered the kitchen, he pointed at the large dining table before going into the cupboard with a medical kit. You went over and stood by the table, not wanting to sit and risk getting blood on the wood.  
Brahms turned back to you, in his hand was the medical kit. You could see he was shaking slightly. The adrenaline must have worn off and now he was worried. Worried about you or because of you, you didn’t know.   
He pointed to the table again.   
“I don’t want to get blood on the table, Brahms.” You said, trying to keep your voice normal. He probably was worried about how you would react.   
He shook his head slightly and walked over to you, placing a hand either side of your waist and lifted you up to sit you on the table. You couldn’t help but giggle at this.   
He had picked you up as if you were the same weight as a doll. Which was ironic.   
Brahms then stood in front of you and started to dab at your cheek with an antibacterial wipe. They stung and you flinched away.   
Brahms pulled back when you winced, his eyes screaming apologies at you for the pain. You smiled slightly at him, straighten back up to show you were okay and Brahms got back to work. You knew there was nothing that could be done since he couldn’t cover it with a bandage or plaster and it wasn’t deep enough to warrant stitching. So you would just have to wait for it to heal.   
You took that moment to let your mind wonder.   
You pieced together everything in your mind. The missing items, the moments, the noises. It was Brahms but not in spirt, in person. Despite the past months, you felt safe with him. Even though it was a somewhat strange situation, you trusted Brahms with your life. He could easily kill you. He had proven he was strong and that he could. But he wouldn’t.   
Because he needed you. And you needed him.   
Your eyes moved to his mask. You knew he had been badly burnt and that was probably why he wore this mask. He wanted the perfect skin of that mask, of the doll. Your heart wept for him. You wondered if his mother or father had encouraged him to wear the mask.   
You reached out both your hands, your fingers trailing along the cheek of the mask. You noticed Brahms had stopped and was staring down at you, his eyes wide. You hooked the tips of your fingers around the sides of the mask and began to pull it up, attempting to remove the mask. Brahms hand quickly but gently grabbed your wrists, his eyes begging for you to stop as he let out whimper.   
“Don’t you trust me?” You asked gently, frowning slightly. You saw him falter a little as if he was asking himself the same question.   
Slowly, he lowered his hands and you lifted the mask off his face.   
The right side of his face was badly scarred with burns while his left side wasn’t as badly. In fact, even with the burns, you were surprised at how handsome he was.   
His eyes were staring at the floor, his black curls falling in front of his eyes. He had a full beard but it didn’t go up the side of his face due to the scars. You placed the mask gently to the side then reached out your right hand to brush the curls out of his face. He looked up at you.   
“[y/n].” He spoke quietly. His voice was a little raspy but angelic.   
“Hi Brahms.” You smile, as if it was the first time you had met, which it was.   
Before you knew what was happening, his arms were waist around your waist and hugged you close, his face buried in your neck. You didn’t waste any time wrapping your own arms around him, holding him close and trying to sooth him.   
When he pulled back, he kept close with his forehead against yours. Your eyes glanced down at his lips. They were full with a small scarring on the right side of his top lip but you didn’t care. To you, he was perfect.   
Gently, as if not to scare him, you leaned forward, your hands on the back of the neck and your thumbs rubbing small circle. Brahms watched you closely, as if he didn’t believe what was happening but the second he realised this was real, he quickly closed the gap between you in a sweet kiss. The kiss, though full of inexperience, was passionate. His hands held you close with a sense urgency and he left out sweet little moans every now and again.   
You pulled back a little for air, despite Brahms desperation to continue the kiss. You knew he probably wouldn’t have kissed or been with a girl but you hadn’t been kissed before anyone either.   
Just then, the clock in the kitchen chimed midnight, making you jump a little.   
“Oh Brahms. I didn’t realise how late it was. We should really get to bed.” You jumped down from the table, making Brahms take a step back, his head hung and his body slouched over. You smiled a little to yourself before reaching out and taking his hand. You thought of sleeping in your bed alone and something about that made you uneasy.   
“Could you stay in with me tonight? I can sleep on the floor or something. I just don’t want to be on my own.” You asked shyly, avoiding eye contact with him. You really wanted for him to stay but you didn’t want him to feel forced.   
You saw his feet stop in front of you and felt his arms wrap around you and he started to guild you toward the door.   
He kept you close as he walked up the stair and to your room. You assumed that was he was agreeing to stay. And as you thought, he came into your room with you.   
Neither of you bother to take off the clothes as Brahms walked around the queen bed. You walked over to the small armchair in the corner of your room which you had fallen asleep in before but a pair of arms wrapped around you and lifted you up before Brahms walked over and placed you on the bed. He then walked around the bed and crawled in beside you. Brahms lay on his back, his arms by his side but the warmth of him drew you so you cuddled into his side.   
The last thing you remembered was an arm wrapping around you and his body turning so Brahms was holding you close.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: The Boy  
> Character: Brahms   
> Relationship: Brahms/reader   
> Request: Can you write a second Brahms one from the boy. Soemthing like he scares the reader by accident and she leaves but comes back to him straight away.

As the rain tapped on the window, you woke up, taking in the peaceful sound of the pitter patter.   
Your mind raced back to the night before, what had happened.   
Brahms was real, he had saved you from your father and kept you safe all night. He had been protecting you the whole time you were here while you protected the doll.   
Then there was that kiss.   
It had been so deep, so passionate that you almost believed it wasn’t real.   
Sitting up, you glanced over your shoulder as dread filled your body.   
Brahms wasnt beside you.   
Pushing the covers back, you quickly checked around the room with no success so you went into the hall way.   
“Brahms?” You called out, the fear obvious in your voice as you listened for a response. But nothing came.   
You checked everywhere. His room, the play rooms, the music room, the living room and with disappointing results.   
You called his name at the top of your voice as you started to run from room to room.   
He had to be real, you weren’t crazy. Last night wasn’t a dream, it couldn’t be.   
Then you remembered your father so you ran to the pool room.   
But when you got there, your heart broke.   
There was no sign of anything in the room. No body, no smashed doll, no blood. Except the mirror Brahms had come out of was now replaced with a hanging portrait of Brahms grand parents.   
Stumbling back, you started to hyperventilate.   
It couldn’t be all in your head, it just couldn’t be. You knew the way your heart had beat against your chest when you saw him was real. The feeling of his lips on yours was real. The pain when your father had cut your cheek was real.   
Jumping, you ran to one of the mirrors in the house and glared at your reflection.   
You had a long, red cut down your cheek. It was clean and you could see it was starting to heal but it was real.   
A knock at the door made you jump out of your skin and run for the door. Could it be him?   
But as you opened the door, you were disappointed to see it was Malcom with your delivery.   
“What happened to your cheek?” He asked, pushing past you with the box and making his way to the kitchen.   
“I fell.” You said through gritted teeth.   
You didn’t need him here right now. Besides, you had more than enough food for yourself and Brahms, if he was real.   
You followed him into the kitchen, taking the time to think things over.   
You couldn’t go to the police about anything because they would put you in an insane asylum. And even if they did find that your father was dead, you wouldn’t sell out Brahms so you would be charged with murder.   
And what about when his parents came back?   
You were interrupted by Malcom slamming the fridge shut, a little harder than you thought necessary.   
“So, wheres the doll?” He asked, making a spectacle of himself looking around so you crossed your arms.   
“Hes… resting.” You settled on, unable to think of anything else to say.   
“Ah, I got you. ‘Resting’. While he resting, why don’t you and me go out sometime?” Malcom said, attempting to sound seductive but more moronic than anything else.   
“No.” You replied flatly, turning on your heel and walking out of the kitchen, hoping he would leave.   
“Why not?” A hand pulled on your jumper which you had forgotten was from yesterday but didn’t care.   
“Because Im not instrested.” You tried to keep your voice calm but it was hard. You were dealing with a lot and this guy wasn’t helping.   
“Come on, give me a chance.” He darted in front of you hand gripped both your upper arms.   
“Listen and listen good. I am not interested in you. I don’t want you as a love, a friend or an acquittance. Nothing, nil, zilch. Now if you would please leave before I call the police.” You hissed, pulling yourself from his grip.   
He stumbled back.   
“fine.” He spat and left, slamming the door behind him.   
Once he was gone, you locked the door and pressed your head against the wood.   
“Where are you Brahms.” You whispered to yourself.   
Eventually, you pulled yourself together and decided that if he was around, he would want you to follow the rules. You had tried to go about your day normally but without the doll, it was hard.   
Soon you gave up and began wondering the house. You ended up back in the pool room when something caught your eye. Under one of the chairs was a piece of prosocline. It was white with a piece of what used to be lip on it. You picked it up, twirling the piece in your hands.   
if you knew where all the other bits were, you would try and glue them back together to pleae Brahms.   
that was when it clicked.   
you held the piece firmly in one hand and walked over to the portrait. You gently pushed it up and it fell forward, off the wall.   
You placed the picture down on the ground and smiled widely.   
There, in the wall, was the hole. The hole that he had come out of last night.   
As you climbed through, you felt like Alice when she was following the white rabbit down the rabbit hole.   
The tunnels were a little dark but you could just make out the way by the light that shone through the floor and wall boards. You walked around inside the walls for a while, unable to get your baring’s until you found a door. You silently pushed it open and peered inside.   
It led to a dark room you had never seen before. There was no natural light inside and you could see a makeshift bed in the corner and a side table. On that table, you could see a couple of pieces of your jewellery and one of your dresses. There was also a photo of you. It was one you had brought with you of you and a friend but your friends face had been ripped off.   
Pushing the door open further, you saw someone hunched over a desk. Instantly, you knew it was Brahms by his cardigan. To his right, was a half built doll. The doll Brahms. You could see he had rebuilt nearly all the body and was now onto the face but he couldn’t seem to find the part he was looking for.   
Stepping inside, you walked up behind him silently. Instantly, you knew the piece in your hand was matching the missing piece.   
Maybe that’s why he hadn’t been around. He was rebuilding the doll.   
“What about this piece?” You asked, your voice making Brahms jump and turn to you, his body language screaming defence. But when his eyes fell on you, holding out the piece, he relaxed slightly.   
He was now wearing his mask again but you remembered how handsome he was.   
Almost curiously, he reached out and took the piece out of your hand and retreated back to the doll, his back to you.   
“Why did you leave?” You asked, stepping closer to him. You saw him flinch at the question but didn’t answer.   
“Do you want me to leave?” You asked, your voice shaking. You knew there was two away to take your questions. Either to leave the room or the house. You didn’t know what you meant yourself.   
Brahms shoot up and turned on your heel to stare at you with wide eyes. He shook his head violently, his curls bouncing against his face.   
You couldn’t help but smile at the urgency of his answer.   
“Then I’ll stay.” You giggled, seeing the way Brahms whole body relaxed at you answer. Brahms walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you but paused. You instantly knew it was because he was unsure if he had done wrong. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close so he didn’t doubt himself. You rested your head against his chest, hearing how hard his heart was beating against his chest.   
“Why would you think I didn’t want you?” Brahms spoke with an air of fear. You had been possessing over the way he had said your name the day before that hearing his voice soothed you.   
“I woke up alone and I couldn’t find you. You didn’t reply when I called you. I thought I was going crazy.” You trailed off as you felt him pull away and you looked at the ground.   
“Sorry.” He muttered leaning down and gently bumping the forehead of the mask against yours. You smiled, looking up at him.   
Reaching up, you gently took the mask off his face and he allowed you. You couldn’t help but smile at him.   
“You wanna go grab something to eat? And I’ll help you finish later?” You asked, nodding to the half built doll. Brahms nodded.   
You were about to turn around but he pressed his lips to yours in a quick and chase kiss. But when he pulled away, you were quick to move forward and return a more passionate kiss. You had spent most of the day thinking you were insane and then have him here and that one kiss was all it took to convince you that your sanity was intact.   
But when you pulled away, you couldn’t fight the growing questions in your mind.   
“Brahms, what do we do now?” You asked, forgetting he couldn’t read your mind and see all the questions. He tilted his head to the side and frowned.   
“I thought you said you were hungry?” He replied, nodding to where you had entered, his curls bouncing a little.   
“No, I mean now. Now I know you’re here.” You ran your hand over his chest a little just to make sure. “And what about when your parents get back?” As you spoke, you saw him flinch slightly.   
“They- they aren’t coming back.” He mumbled, pulling away from you and walking away.   
You stumbled a little since you had been leaning on him slightly.   
“What do you mean?” You called after him, a little confused now.   
But he didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up a piece of paper off the side of a table and held it out to you. You walked forward and took it gently out of his hand and started to read.   
You recognised it as his mothers handwriting. The letter said about how much they loved him but they couldn’t live with the guilt and with him. You couldn’t believe your eyes or read the final sentences.   
They had committed suicide.   
You looked up and saw Brahms was staring at your intensely.   
“Bahms, im so sorry.” You lowered the letter, keeping it in your right hand.   
“Its okay. Because now I have you. And you’ll never leave.” He stepped forward but you stepped back. Instantly, Brahms froze.   
It was so much to take in, you almost felt like you were going to pass out. After everything last night and now this, it was too much. You needed some space, some fresh air.   
“You’ll never leave, right?” Brahms suddenly growled, making you jump and stare up at him with fear in your eyes. “You’re happy?” It wasn’t so much a statement but a question.   
“Brahms, i-“ But before you could being to explain anything, he turned away from you and walked away from you to a table in the corner. You could see he was breathing hard and he seemed to hunch over himself and he was shaking after if he was struggling to control himself.   
“Leave.” He growled, his voice low and sharp. You jumped a little, unable to control the growing feeling you were in danger.   
“Brahms-“ You walked forward and reached out a hand to him, but he whipped around to face you, his hands sending the table flying to smash against the walls as it shattered.   
you let out a scream and covered your face with your hands, convinced he would hurt you like your father used to.   
But nothing came.   
You peaked through your fingers to see he was staring down at you, his face contorted in pain.   
“Leave.” He mumbled, stepping back from you.   
You didn’t have to be asked twice.   
turning on your heels, you ran. Down all the twisty bends in the wall and out into the main house. You didn’t grab any of your things but kept running out the door into the garden when you slowed down to a walk so you could catch your breath.   
You noticed you still had the letter in your hand and noticed there was some on the back you hadn’t seen before. You turned the paper over and started to read.   
“Take care of her. Protect her like you wanted to all those years ago. Be kind to her, remember how much shes been through, like you have. I know how much you love her and you have to show her that. Never be cruel to her or make her want to leave. If shes happy, she will stay with you.”  
As you read the short paragraph, you felt your legs buckle in as you fell to the ground which was luckily grass.   
He loved you? You couldn’t imagine brahms having much experience in any sort of romantic thing. His parents were always so reserved and you couldn’t imagine his mum sitting down and telling him to treat a girl. Especially if they thought he would never have anyone who would stay.   
He just wanted to protect you.   
You looked up to the old house. You were about half way between the the house and the entrance gates.   
he was letting you leave? He wasn’t chasing after you or threating you. He had asked if you were happy. And he could tell you were getting more and more scared of him as seconds passed. So he told you to leave.   
He knew your father was now gone so your father wouldn’t track you to the ends of the earth. He knew your father couldn’t hurt you. And if you left, neither could he.   
And yet as you looked up at the house, you couldn’t leave.   
You wondered how many people he had killed before you. And yet the thought didn’t horrify you. It didn’t push you away or make you think of him in a worse way.   
It drew you to him.   
Pushing yourself up off the ground, you walked back to the house.   
You entered through the kitchen door and heard the piano playing. The eerie music echoed through the house. It was a beautifully sad melody.   
You walked silently to the music room, opening the door ever so slightly to see Brahms sitting at the piano, his fingers bouncing off the keys as he played the melody. His back wasn’t completely to you but he couldn’t see you in his peripheral vision.   
For a moment, you sat and listened to him, enjoying the soft music till it started to slow down. You watched as Brahms hands started to shake and he stopped playing. His hands left the keys to come up and cover his face.   
You heard him begin to sob into his hands like a broken man.   
He thought he was alone. He thought no one wanted to be here with him.   
You walked into the room and silently sat beside him on the higher notes side.   
Placing your fingers on the keys, you began to play a melody Mrs Heelshire had taught you and Brahms where you were children. She taught you the higher notes and him the lower notes. She would sit in the chair in the corner and listen to the two of you play. You wondered if he would remember.   
As you started to play, you felt Brahms jumped and turn to you. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at you liked you were a ghost, but you kept playing. You felt his eyes on your as he reached out and gently touched your arm. You glanced at him and smiled.   
He quickly caught on to the song and placed his fingers on the keys, waited a moment before joining in.   
For a few minutes, the two of you sat there playing the piano without a care in the world. You couldn’t stop smiling as you finished off the song and turned to him.   
“You came back?” He asked, turning his body to you. You could still see the disbelief in his eyes. “Does that mean you’ll stay?” He asked, a slight ting of fear in his voice.   
“Yes.” You answered, nodding your head to confirm.   
You were embraced in long arms as he pulled to close. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close.   
pulling back, he ducked his head down to kiss you. The kiss wasn’t like before. It was desperate, passionate, filled with unspoken words as he held you.   
“Im sorry for scaring you earlier.” He mumbled as he pulled only millimetre away from your lips, as though he couldn’t go any further.   
“Its okay. But don’t do it again.” You said in a serious voice. Brahms nodded.   
You pulled away from him to get to your feet and walk to the door. You glanced over your shoulder and saw Brahms was staring after you, a small smile on his scared lips.   
“you coming?” You asked, holding out your hand to him.   
He was by your side in a minute, taking your hand as you guided him into the kitchen.   
As the two of you made lunch, your let your thoughts wonder.   
You couldn’t believe how easy it was to be with him. It felt so natural and easy, even just talking to him. You knew he would kill anyone who threatened you and he would protect you with his life.   
He adored you as you did him. But he had made it clear you could leave if you ever wanted to. Which you didn’t.   
For the first time in your life, you were accepted.


End file.
